Weekly Garden Update: July 13

Since I set up my backyard shady glen, I’ve spent time in the backyard garden most every day.  The comfy seat, the company of chirping birds, companionship of shy bunnies, and the view of my growing garden make it a lovely part of my day.

It seems like a treat to bring a glass of iced tea and a good book out here to relax and enjoy the garden.

   

Things change a bit each day and week-by-week I am closer to the abundant produce and flowers that make Summer so welcome in my world.

Colonial Park Flower Garden

There is a lovely public rose garden near my house and I visited it earlier this month.  The roses were mostly gearing up for their second growing season, though a few rosebuds remained.

I’ll come back to see the roses again later this summer.  In the meantime, there were plenty of other flowers to enjoy.  The hydrangeas are lovely.

The bench in the shade of the trellised wisteria is peaceful.  I’d love to have space enough for a display like this some day.

A lot of effort goes into a garden like this and I always a welcome a visit to this tidy garden.

My zinnias aren’t yet at this level, but they’ll get there soon enough.  

Summer, you continue to charm me.

Pop, Pop, Pop

I made apricot-pineapple jam last week —— 10 pots worth of delicious jam.

Making jam is one of the most pleasing elements of summer.  The smell of hot jam on the stove is heavenly.

When the pots of jam come out of the water bath to cool on the counter, the sound of the seals as they pop is one of the happiest sounds of summer.

These jars will be stored on the shelves in the basement, at the ready for warm slices of freshly-toasted bread, fresh scones, and Winter gift-giving.  That’s happy!

Farmer McSassafras

Peter Rabbit spent rather a lot of energy looking to avoid the wrath of Farmer McGregor, while seeking to cadge the occasional produce from the farmer’s garden.  There are rabbits in my backyard and garden and they seem to know that they have nothing to fear.  They nibble my hostas.

They feed on the clover in my grass.

They probably score the occasional produce from my garden.  Perhaps they take comfort in the fact that we’ve named them……you see in these pictures the Mama Bunny and her baby twins, Francesca and Fleur.  The fourth bunny in the grass is a newcomer to the yard and nameless but this bunny is just as welcome as the others.  There’s no Farmer McGregor at this house, just the sort of softies who delight in sightings of the backyard bunnies.

Poor Life Decisions

As the parent of a strong-willed 15 year old, I’ve had more than one opportunity to recognize my own stubborn self in my son.  I know from experience that the words of a parent will be heard but not always embraced.  So I do my best to set some firm boundaries and let JT learn his way through the rest of life’s choices.  On occasion, this strategy works out.  Case in point: JT’ summer schedule.

Within a week of the start of Summer Break, JT had slipped seamlessly into a daily schedule which featured hours of reading about and watching sports and  playing iPad games with his friends late into the night.  Throw in some music and a little Netflix action and his life was complete.  He’d crawl into bed by 3 am, awaken at 11, rinse and repeat.

I was not amused and said as much.  Naturally, my concerns were dismissed for the unreasonable nonsense they clearly were.  Salvation of sorts came in the form of summer athletic practices, some of which occurred in the morning  Though it must be noted that the transition to a more reasonable schedule was a pretty unpleasant journey for a certain 15 year old.

Nearly two weeks ago, on the Monday after his usual weekend debauchery, JT rose at 7:30 am to join the cross country team in a weightlifting and sprinting endurance workout.  The night before he’d gone to bed at 3:30 am.  It didn’t take a rocket scientist to see this wouldn’t end well.

He came from the practice just after 10:30 am, awash in sweat with jittery legs and a pale face.   He looked like death on a cracker.  He lay on the floor in my office for about 10 minutes and then asked for a ride home.  We made the 15 minute drive in silence and when we got home he stepped out of the car and seconds later was on his hands and knees in the front yard, vomiting up the contents of his practically empty stomach.  Like most people, he doesn’t enjoy throwing up.  However, unlike most of us, he has done so exactly four times in his life.  This was the fourth and it was a gangbuster, featuring loud wretches and dry heaves.  The neighbor’s little girls, dressed in tutus and headed to dance class, watched in horror.  I stood quietly by his side, suggesting only that he rinse his mouth and not gulp water.  When he was done, we went inside.

I recommended a shower and he complied.  Then I gave him some Sprite to sip and tucked him into bed with instructions that he have a nap but set an alarm so that he would awaken by noon.  I returned to work and received a text just after noon, “I’m awake,” he reported.  I instructed him to leave his dark cave of a bedroom and head downstairs to the light of the living room.  When I got home just after 2 pm, he looked much better.  I made him some noodle soup and gently suggested that the morning’s events were the result of taking his body for granted and not looking out for his health.  I pointed out that he had to live in his body for the next 70 years and that if he treated his body well it would reward him for his efforts.  He bore the lecture silently and I left for the gym, hoping that my words and actions would be heard and embraced.

Hah.

That night, he stayed up until nearly 3 am, when I woke up and ordered him to bed.  We were mutually annoyed with one another.  The next day, we had another discussion about striking a balance and making good life decisions —— I provided some more examples.  I suggested that staying up late could be 1 am instead of 3 am.  He could get out of bed around 10 instead of noon.  He could get some physical activity every day and eat some healthy food that would fuel workouts.  JT treated these suggestions as interesting though not necessarily useful for him.  I was disheartened and felt that I wasn’t making much progress.

That afternoon I was sitting on the front porch when a small dog wandered across the street.  He was clearly well cared for and just as clearly loose without an owner.  I called JT outside to help me.  We checked mystery dog’s collar but there was no tag and we were mystified until a neighbor informed us that the dog belonged to a house down the street.  JT and I headed that way with the dog and I knocked on the door.  We could hear the TV blaring but no one answered the door.  We waited a minute and then walked to the backyard, not exactly sure what our next action should be.

When we got to the backyard, we discovered an open gate and the mystery dog seemed interested in going to the yard.  As we returned the dog, the back door opened and out stepped a young man, likely in his early 20s and looking rather worse for the wear as he smoked a cigarette.  He confirmed that the dog was his and said, “I had no idea she was gone.  How did she get out?”

JT and I exchanged a look and then I explained that the gate had been open.  The young man thanked us and we left.  JT was silent as we walked back up the driveway and out to the sidewalk.  A moment later he offered a thought, “That dude was a mess.  He didn’t even know his dog was gone.”  I had just one response: “That’s what poor life decisions look like.”  We walked home in mutual silence.

A few hours later, JT came downstairs, laced up his running shoes, and went for a run.  At supper that night, he asked for and ate a salad.  His sleeping schedule has gotten a little more reasonable.  I know enough to take these small victories to heart in silence, aware that parenting requires a level of diplomacy that the 15 year old me never even contemplated.

Weekly Garden Update: July 6

While I was taking a holiday from school last week, I finished out the mulch project for the rest of the garden.  

Along the fence, I’ve planted some perennials (hostas and gladioli bulbs, though I fear the squirrels have feasted on the bulbs).  

Weeded and tidy, it carries with it the hope that I can keep the ivy and Virginia creeper at bay.  Under normal conditions, I like both of these vines but in the absence of restraint, they will overwhelm the garden and the newish fence.  I planted a rose bush behind the chairs.  I love roses and cannot resist rose bush clearance prices at the garden store.  The rest of the plants are coming along nicely.  The week ahead looks to bring heat.  I’ll provide water.  Soon enough we’ll have tomatoes for our supper. 

Independence

I’ve been teaching about American history and the American system of government for more than 25 years.  Like every human story that I know of, it’s filled with imperfections and injustices.  This past year, working through the complexity of early American history in the company of 7th graders reminded me again of those complexities and opened my eye to the ways in which adolescent citizens perceive them. 

I take the 12 and 13 year olds in my classroom seriously and treat them as equal citizens.  In this way, my classroom becomes one where questions and opinions are encouraged and discussed.  Through my 47 year old eyes, there are tiers of injustice in American history.  The original sins of slavery and the genocide of Native American Indians rank first among them.  The inequality of women, immigrants, gays, and society’s most vulnerable are certainly troubling but somehow less venal in my understanding of our history.

Over time, I’ve come to see the many frustrating complexities of American history in the complicated light they represent.  I teach the Declaration of Independence and Constitution which followed as bold statements about the shining promise of freedom and equality.  It was imperfectly applied on the very first July 4.  I believe that over the next 200-plus years, the promise is being haltingly fulfilled for the remainder of society.  Because our notions of them change over historical time, freedom and inequality remain a work in progress.  That is the power of the ideas first articulated in 1776.

But for the 7th graders with whom I keep company, the line of right and wrong is more stark.  On the wrong side of history: slavery, the treatment of Native American Indians, the inequality of women, immigrants, gays, and society’s most vulnerable.  Full stop.

Part of their stark views can be explained by the age of my students.  7th grade is the year that 12 and 13 year olds insist upon the right to express themselves as separate from their parents.  At times, they struggle for freedom and independence; seeking distance from the structure and expectations of parents and the rules of school.  At other times, they seek the comfort of the very things they struggle against.  Sometimes they seek these seemingly conflicting goals at the very same time.  They long to be heard and valued; they aren’t always eloquent about this demand.  But, oh, are they thoughtful and passionate.  To explain our imperfect union to such idealists is a challenge and a reminder that they expect justice for all.  Moreover, they aren’t prepared to tolerate anything less.  There is a great promise in such confidence about the world, well worth celebrating on today of all days.

Food Friday: Blueberry Scones

I have a couple of different scone recipes.  This one results in a moist, rich dough and is less dry than a traditional scone.  The recipe is adapted from the Pioneer Woman, which perhaps explains the richness and certainly accounts for the butter!  The dough looks lovely studded with blueberries.

Once baked, I add a glaze but they could just as easily be served with a bit of jam.

The recipe:

- 3 cups Flour

- 1/3 cup Sugar

- 3 teaspoons Baking Powder

- 1/4 teaspoon Salt

-  2 sticks Cold Butter, Cut Into Pieces

- half cup Heavy Cream

- half cup half & half

- 1/4 cup Milk

- 1 whole Egg

- 1 teaspoon Vanilla

- 1 cup fresh blueberries

Glaze

- 2 Tablespoons Butter, Melted

- 2 cups Powdered Sugar, Sifted

- 1/4 cup Milk

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

Combine the flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt in a large bowl. Add the butter and use a pastry cutter to cut them together until they resemble coarse crumbs.

Stir together the heavy cream, half & half, milk, egg, and vanilla.

Pour the wet ingredients into the dry ingredients and mix them together until they're halfway combined. Add the berries and stir until mixed. Add the remaining berries and stir until everything is combined.

Turn out the dough onto a floured surface and press it into a rectangle that's about 16 inches tall by about 6 inches wide. Using a floured pizza cutter or knife, cut it in half lengthwise and then make 4 cuts across to create 4 squares. Cut each square into two triangles. Transfer the scones to a baking sheet lined with a baking mat. Bake for 20 - 25 minutes or until done. Remove to a cooling rack and allow them to cool completely.

To make the glaze, whisk together the melted butter and powdered sugar.  Add the milk a bit at a time, until the glaze is smooth and somewhat thick. Place the racks of scones over baking sheets to catch the excess, then use a spoon to drizzle the glaze all over the scones. Allow the glaze to set before serving.

Four Eyes

I first began to consistently need glasses when I was in my early 20s.  I didn’t really mind wearing glasses, though I never recognized myself in the mirror when I wore them and I missed peripheral vision.  Extended wear contact lenses became my solution —— I loved them for the peripheral vision they provided and I wore them all day and all night with nary a problem.  As my 20s disappeared into my 30s, wearing contact lenses was sometimes a challenge.  Not much, mind you, but enough that I gave up extended wear lenses in exchange for monthly disposable lenses that I took out each night.  

When my early 40s arrived, my eye doctor suggested that contact lenses would be more of a problem as I aged, with dry eyes becoming an uncomfortable reality of daily living.  I denied that this was a problem for me, though I did become more careful about selecting glasses.  Over time, with better-quality glasses at hand, I began to wear my glasses more and more often.  Sunny days always meant contact lenses so that I could wear sun glasses outside.  But on cloudy days, I’ve become increasingly likely to skip the contacts and wear my glasses all day long.  The more I wear my glasses, the more I realize that peripheral vision not withstanding, I can see better in glasses.  I’m still surprised when I see my face in the mirror, but hey, who isn’t sometimes surprised when they realize they aren’t 25 anymore?

A few months ago, T suggested that I would enjoy prescription sunglasses.   I deferred, claiming them to be unnecessary.  But the idea had been planted and more and more often as I put in my contact lenses in the morning, I’ve come to wish I simply had prescription sunglasses at hand, so that I could skip the discomforts of a long day in contact lenses.

And now you know where this post is headed.  I’ve finally gone out and obtained some prescription sunglasses.   I still don’t recognize myself in glasses but dang, I can see very well when I wear them.  All of this is just a way of admitting that  I’m 47 years old and just now starting to use my common sense on a regular basis.  So that's promising.

July 1: Peach Tree

We’re at that point in summer when things are green, lush, and growing quickly.  The warm, long, sunlit days are making the plants happy.  My peach tree has a few peaches (the rest have been gobbled by the backyard squirrels) but it’s otherwise flourishing in its corner of the yard.

The garden is at its most verdant and charming at this time of the year.  I have a few days off to enjoy it.  That’s most happy!